Shetani's Journal
by The Fereldan
Summary: This is basically my playthrough of TES V, aka Skyrim, written from my female Khajiit character's point of view in the form of a journal. Of course, I have taken great artistic liberties here, to improve certain aspects of the story. Enjoy! :D
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: This is very AU…I am ignoring the Khajiit "breeds" that are settled via moon phases, for the purposes of this fic, all Khajiit are like the ones you see forming trade caravans along the roads in Skyrim. I'm also going to leave out the peculiar speech patterns of Khajiit in Skyrim…this journal is written in Shetani's native tongue. I always figured that the language barrier caused the odd speech patterns of Khajiit in-game. So, you are reading the journal as it would appear to a Khajiit as they are reading it...does that make sense? I must admit, I am new to the Elder Scrolls series, so I may not know as much of the lore as others…but I think I have a good story here all the same. At any rate, I'm hoping that working on something else for awhile will cure my writer's block with my Dragon Age fic, The Scorpion's Journey.

Third day of First Seed (March 3rd)

My name is Shetani…Well, back in Elsweyr I was called Ma'Shetani, but as I have been exiled from my tribe, I feel that my prefix is no longer necessary. A prefix to indicate status is only useful when one is with their own people…I have not seen another like me in a very long time. Being a Skyrim tome, Journal, you may not know this, but a Khajiit's prefix denotes their status…"Ma" indicates that I am still a child. I am approaching adulthood, but still very much a child in the eyes of my elders, as despite reaching sexual maturity recently I have not yet had any children or deigned to seek a mate. I was to going to find a mate and try for a litter after the moon sugar harvests, when the timing would be better… there was a young hunter in my tribe who I liked very much, and he was to return around then….but it no longer matters.

I can never return to my tribe again. I have been cursed with great magical talent, and since dedicated mages are unusual among our people, I was never trained in how to control it. I don't want to be too specific in case this journal ever ends up in the wrong hands, but let's just say I ended up having one of those big misunderstandings that end with a bunch of destroyed moon sugar fields. No innocents were hurt, but our Clan Mother was very angry, and it was decided that it would be in the best interest of all if I left. And so I left, my dwelling and all assets bequeathed back to my parents, who mourned as though I had been executed rather than banished.

After my exile, I wandered for a bit, heading to Cyrodiil in hopes of finding a place to hone my magic. Unfortunately, I soon learned that the mages in Cyrodiil are too wrapped up in politics to actually teach. An innkeeper told me of the College of Winterhold in Skyrim, and so I set off the next day.

I am now in Skyrim, though my circumstances could certainly be better. Upon crossing the border, I got captured along with a horsethief and a handful of rebels who call themselves Stormcloaks. Looks like I've gotten caught up in some kind of war. Imperial soldiers took me to a small town called Helgen, where I was to be executed along with the others. The other soldiers didn't seem so bad; they promised me that they'd send my remains back to Elsweyr. If not for the captain being a complete bitch, I would likely have been spared. A Khajiit just can't catch a break, it seems.

Now, as I'm still alive to write this, I should explain. A dragon attacked Helgen as I was being shoved unceremoniously onto the block, and a man named Ralof, one of the Stormcloaks I'd gotten captured with, helped me escape. A soldier named Hadvar had offered to help as well, but I did not trust these Imperials after being almost executed by them for basically no reason, and the rebel seemed trustworthy enough. It is also in his sister's house that I am staying in, and his aunt gave me this book to write in, to help get my thoughts together. I will remember the kindness of these Nords for as long as I live...most men and mer can't be bothered to help a Khajiit in need.

It's time for me to get some rest now. Gerdur, Ralof's sister, asked me to go to Whiterun in the morning to inform the Jarl (Jarls are apparently the equivalent of our tribal leaders) of the dragon attack on Helgen. Normally, I wouldn't bother, but these Nords have helped me a great deal. Besides, there might be some kind of reward from the Jarl…if I'm going to make it to the College, I'll need coin. And carrying important news like this could be my ticket past the guards…I've heard that most Nords don't even let Khajiit into their cities.

Always yours,

Shetani


	2. Chapter 2

Fifth day of First Seed (March 5th)

Tonight as I write this I am sleeping in a mountain cave…perhaps I should explain.

I stopped in the Riverwood trader's shop to gather supplies before I left for Whiterun, and I ended up picking up a job. Well, sort of. I'm supposed to go looking for some kind of golden claw-shaped ornament, and if I bring it back the trader will pay me for my trouble. We'll see how good the coin is, if it's not to my satisfaction I suppose I could always re-sell the claw to someone else. Assuming I actually find the damn thing, anyway.

I spoke to the Jarl about the dragon (and got a rather nice monetary reward for my trouble!), his court wizard sent me here to this cave…Bleak Falls Barrow. Something about a dragonstone or whatnot…not sure why this task falls to me, but having a powerful leader in your debt is never a bad thing. And this is also where the trader said the claw would be, so I'm killing two birds with one stone.

This mountain is cold and dangerous…I killed a few bandits and took over this camp at the mouth of the caverns. They were no match for my claws and flame spells (flame spells are about the only magic I can do reliably), but at least they were good cooks. It's been a long time since I've eaten a roasted goat leg next to a roaring fire. Should I feel bad about killing them? Perhaps. I overheard them speaking about an elf named Arvel and the claw, these bandits were obviously thieves, and the thieves I'm after at that. I don't know…my life is full of shades of grey these days.

I miss Elsweyr…even more so in this cold, damp land than I did in Cyrodiil. One of the female bandits I killed had a beautiful mirror in her pack…tonight I saw my reflection for the first time in many moon cycles. I had forgotten how beautiful I was. I had forgotten my large bright amber eyes, my lion-tawny fur, my shoulder-length jet-black mane. I am reminded of how easily my life could have been different…I could have been wrapped up in the warmth of a mate's embrace rather than shivering on top of a frigid mountain. I decided to braid my mane, the way I used to in Elsweyr. I no longer have gold rings to adorn the braids with, I had sold them to help fund my travels, but it was still nice to be able to braid it. Perhaps I should get some more gold rings when I finally reach the College of Winterhold, as a reward to myself…it would be nice to wear earrings and have gold hoops in my braids again.

The College of Winterhold…I wish I was there, learning magic, instead of here in this cave! I asked the Jarl's court wizard if there was anything he could teach me, but…he's not much of a teacher. I just keep reminding myself that I'll be in Winterhold soon enough.

Well, I have to get some sleep while I still can…I still need to get that dragonstone for the Jarl, and the claw if I'm lucky.

Goodnight,

Shetani


	3. Chapter 3

Dear Journal,

I need to get out of here. Things have transpired within the past two days that I must leave Whiterun immediately. Yes, I am back in Whiterun, I'm staying at the inn. I shall start from where my last entry left off….

I killed a bunch of undead nord skeletons, found Arvel, saved him from a giant spider, he ran off, I killed him, got the golden claw, got the dragonstone, blah blah blah. All that was nothing I couldn't handle, despite the situation itself being odd. What really unsettled me was a wall that I found while I was there.

It was a wall, covered with what looked like to be a single word in a foreign language written over and over. When I approached it, everything went dark, save for a ribbon of light that engulfed me. When the light returned, a word and its meaning came into my consciousness… "fus". It means "Force". I don't know how I know this. I just do. But that's not even the thing that really has me rattled…

When I finally brought the dragonstone back (the next morning), somehow…somehow…I was roped into fighting a dragon alongside Irileth (the Jarl's housecarl…in Skyrim they're like bodyguards). Yes, a dragon was attacking the western watchtower, and the Jarl wanted me to accompany Irileth. I don't know why I went…I could have easily been on my way. I can tell you that I just wanted to earn the Jarl's gratitude, that I just wanted to tag along and earn myself a reward. But something inside me wanted to face that dragon. Maybe this had something to do with the wall I encountered. I'm not really sure.

As the dragon fell, he shouted "Dovakiin, no!" Again, I understood his roar as a language…just like the wall. I think I was the only one who was able to understand the roar as anything more than noise. Anyways, when he died, he disintegrated. I absorbed some kind of power from him, which the soldiers made a huge deal about. They kept telling me to "shout"…but I didn't know how! I just ignored them and head back to Whiterun. On my way back, I heard a voice say "Dovahkiin". It was so loud, the very ground shook as it resonated.

Upon returning to the Jarl, he named me "Thane" and gave me an axe. I guess it means I'm some kind of hero. Looks like I don't have to worry about not being let into the city anymore. He also mentioned something about the voice I heard…he said that the voice called to me. He said that I'm something called "Dragonborn", that I need to go to some temple on "the throat of the world". But far more disconcerting was the fact that he assigned me a housecarl. Her name is Lydia, she is sleeping on a cot near the doorway of my room as I write this.

The Jarl expects me to be a prominent figure, to what end I have no idea. All I know is that this is not what I came to Skyrim for. Lydia is sworn to protect me and my belongings with her life…I am not ready for this. I want to go to Winterhold, to be a mage, I don't want to stay here!

In the morning, I will leave Lydia. I shall tell her to remain in Whiterun. She has a place here, I do not. I have coin enough to get the wagon outside the city gates to take me to Winterhold. What will happen next…I don't know. I will write when I have the chance again, until then, I bid you goodnight.

Take care,

Shetani


End file.
